A Big-ish Day

The words flowed easily today, not many customer interruptions, so I blew through the 1667 mark and screeched to a halt just over 2,000. I probably shouldn't say (type) this out loud but I'm more than a day's quota ahead. More conflict on the horizon for tomorrow. Gotta pick up the pace!

As I walked down the road toward the Seaview the next morning I saw a man leaning on the tree in the center of the garden. He looked tall, over six feet, and strong. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows and his forearm muscles ripples with ropy strength. He straightened as I turned into the yard past the dumpster. I saw that he was older than I thought when I first saw him, maybe close to sixty five if the white hairs curling over his ears were any hint. I smiled at him and he brushed his hands over his pressed blue jeans and smiled back. “Uncle Iggy?” I asked, realizing as soon as I said it that he was not my uncle and I should have been a bit more formal. “Are you Ignatius?” He nodded but had not spoken when I reached him and extended my hand. He wiped his hand one more time on his pants leg and put his hand in mine. I felt the calluses of a working man scrape my palm and his long fingers wrapped around the back of my hand. I got a little jolt of electricity at his touch and a shiver ran up my arm. I knew that he felt it too because both pairs of eyes dropped to look at our joined hands and then popped back up to look at each other. “Yes,” his voice was deep and smooth, “I am Ignatius, Ignatius Solomon. You must be Missus Rose Lambert. Silas and Johnno have told me that you need an electrician.” We stood staring into each others’ eyes and holding hands while I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. I pulled my hand back and rubbed it down my own pants. “Yes, um, yes I need an electrician and Johnno tells me you are licensed.” He nodded and his hand reached around to his hip pocket for his wallet. I stopped him, saying “Let us go through to the front porch and we can talk about whether you have time to do the work I need and whether I can afford you.” I was pulling my keys out of my pocket so that I could unlock the back door when I saw the padlock was not latched. “Dammit,” I said. “I am going to murder that boy.”

Daily count: 2,016 words
Total count: 21,922 words

I'm kicking butt! Yay, me!
--Barbara